


You'd Be My Favorite Singularity (I'm For You)

by wherehopelies



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Love Triangles, Stemily Week, its all complicated, side bemily, side chacie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: For stemily week





	1. fake dating

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from All Ways by Elliott Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stemily week day 1: fake dating

It happened because Stacie is a petty bitch.

Her words, full acceptance.

Sure, anyone who really _knows her_ might claim it’s because Stacie is protective, and loyal, and has a tendency to want to exert her clear superiority over men, and this man in particular, was just so easy to crush.

But at the heart of it, Stacie knows the truth.

She’s a petty bitch.

//

(Fine, and she also, like, loves her best friend or whatever. But that’s just semantics.)

//

They’re at the Met in one of those painting galleries with like, twelve portraits of the Madonna holding baby Jesus in various poses that really all look the same. Jesus looks like a baby on steroids and Mary’s all golden and angelic.

It’s fine or whatever. Stacie likes art, but she really just wants to get to the Greek sculptures. That’s her shit.

Emily, though, she’s all enraptured by the details of Jesus on steroids, so Stacie’s dealing because Emily’s like, adorable, or whatever. All wide-eyed and fresh-faced. Stacie’d rather look at her best friend looking at art than look at the actual art itself.

At least until something interesting happens.

And happens it does.

Because in strolls one of Stacie’s least favorite people in the world. And you’d think in New York, the chances of running into one of your least favorite people in the world would be slim to none, but Stacie knows the laws of the universe deem that you shall never run into hot people you met once at a bar and had a connection with but forgot to get their number. No, you only ever run into your least favorite people. It’s just how things work.

So anyway, Emily’s admiring the paintings and Stacie’s admiring Emily’s legs in those shorts, when in walks one Benjamin Applebaum.

And yeah, okay, Stacie knows he’s like, a nice guy or whatever. She’s met some real tools and Benji isn’t one of them. But that doesn’t mean he’s not on her shit list.

He has some nerve. Coming into the same fucking gallery in a huge ass museum in a huge ass city holding the hand of some blonde chick in a miniskirt. A gorgeous blonde chick. Stacie’ll give him that, but he’s always had good taste, even if he dumped the best he’ll ever get.

He’s smiling at the girl, like the overeager chipmunk he is, and the petty bitch that possesses Stacie sometimes comes out to play.

She grabs Emily’s hand tightly.

Emily turns to her, head tilting to the side. “Sorry, have we been in here too long? We can go look at someth - ”

And it’s then that Emily sees Benji and Benji sees them. And ah, the awkward tension that fills the room, Benji holding blonde chick’s hand and staring at them, Stacie holding Emily’s hand and glaring at Benji, fat baby Jesus between them, looking like he just doped up for the Home Run Derby.

Stacie loves it.

“Oh, Emily,” Benji murmurs, his cheeks turning bright red. “Hey.”

“Uh… H-hey, Benji.” And Stacie can feel it, the wave of sadness and disappointment crashing over her best friend. The petty bitch in her rises up.

“Hello, Benji,” she gushes, pulling Emily closer to her.

Emily, bless her, just leans into Stacie like this is something they totally do all the time.

Benji’s eyes skitter toward their clasped hands. “Stacie. Hey. Uh. Funny seeing you guys here.”

“You’re not the only one who moved to the city, Benjamin,” Stacie says. “We’ve been here six months now, isn’t that right, babe?”

Emily nods, staring at Stacie strangely. Stacie gets the feeling she just wants to avoid looking at Benji. And honestly, Stacie doesn’t blame her. His bowtie is atrocious. Also, he like, broke her heart and caused her to fall into a depressive funk for three months, but you know. It’s an ugly bowtie… So.

“Oh,” Benji says, a grin plastered on his face. “That’s… swell.” He cringes and Stacie’s lowkey _living_ for it. “Umm. Right, this is my girlfriend Madison. Madison, this is my… um... this is Emily and Stacie.”

The blonde girl eyes Emily somewhat suspiciously so Stacie sticks her free hand out. “Lovely to meet you Maddie. Can I call you Maddie? Honestly, didn’t think Benji here had it in him to bag another hottie after Em, but I guess some guys are just lucky, you know?” She gives an over exaggerated laugh that morphs into a real laugh at the discomfort on everyone’s faces.

If there’s one thing Stacie has always loved about Benji, it’s how easy he is to fluster.

Honestly, this isn’t even fun. Where is the challenge?

“I... um. Well.” Benji coughs.

“Don’t worry, Benj, I’ve been taking _super_ great care of her, if you know what I mean.” She winks in his new girlfriend’s direction, taking pride in the clear _wtf_ expression on her face.

“You… Her?” Benji sputters and Stacie almost feels sorry for him. Except that she hates him.

Next to her, Emily is just looking at her with wide eyes, speechless and blushing. She’s cute, like in an unfair way, and it just spurs Stacie on because how could anyone break this girl’s heart?

“Oh, yeah,” Stacie beams, her eyes connecting with Emily’s. “You’d have to be a fool to let this one go. But then again,” she smirks in Benji’s direction. “Not everyone is as smart as I am. Don’t worry, Mads, they say men get wiser with time, but if not, at least he’s cute, right?”

And because she’s a petty bitch, she pats Benji condescendingly on the cheek.

Benji frowns, but Stacie has to hand it to blonde chick. She’s got some grit. She just rolls her eyes and tugs Benji away. “Nice to meet you,” she says sweetly over her shoulder, and Stacie waggles her fingers in a wave.

“What was that?” Emily says as soon as they’re out of earshot, but Stacie shakes her head.

“Wait.”

She knows it’s coming, because what boy could resist? Stacie stares at the retreating Benji out of the corner of her eye.

Three… two…

As soon as she sees him look back at them over his shoulder, she leans in and gives Emily the sweetest, hottest, most desirable kiss she can muster.

Which, not to be brag, is pretty sweet, hot, and desirable.

Emily exhales sharply into her mouth, then her shoulders melt as she leans into it, returning the kiss gently.

And okay, Stacie just did all that to be a petty bitch, but she meant everything she said, and this kiss?

Holy shit.

Her lips tingle and warmth spreads throughout her body and she forgets about everything for the quick second their lips are touching.

Then Emily pulls away, and Stacie remembers to breathe.

“Uh,” Emily says, her neck looking like she spent about three too many hours out in the sun without sunscreen. Stacie’s ears are ringing. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Stacie repeats, her eyes fixated on Emily’s lips.

Holy shit.

“He’s, uh, gone.” Emily chuckles softly. “Um, thanks for that.”

“Yeah,” Stacie says, getting lost in the pretty flecks of brown in Emily’s eyes.

Holy. Shit.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

“Come on.” Emily squeezes her hand and starts pulling her out of the gallery. “Let’s go look at the sculpture garden.”

Stacie can feel about all 12 baby Jesuses on steroids following her with their eyes as she clings to Emily’s hand.

And they’re probably totally judging her for being a petty bitch, but Stacie? All she can think of his how she totally would rather look at Emily than all this boring art, how it feels to have Emily’s hand in hers…

How that kiss is still tingling on her lips.


	2. Love Triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem is Emily likes that walking cliché, Beca Mitchell. But Beca Mitchell still has her puppy dog Treble boyfriend. And is also probably into Chloe. Who is into Beca and also Aubrey, who is into work and also Stacie. Who is into sex, school, and fine, Emily Junk.

Stacie doesn’t know the moment she developed feelings, she only knows the moment she realized she had them. It’s the moment she was able to look back on all the times her heart flipped when Emily smiled at her and how she sometimes got a swooping feeling behind her ribcage when Emily was around and think _oh… I like her. That’s different._

It was at the underground battle at that creepy goose guy’s house. The whole thing was over and everyone was kind of milling around, dancing and drinking, pretty much exactly Stacie’s scene. She’d been eyeing this total beefcake from the Green Bay Packers when she’d received an SOS text from Ashley because Chloe was wasted and doing that thing where she kept trying to take her clothes off.

Stacie supports that, but even she knows there’s a time and a place and Stripper Drunk Chloe would probably regret showing her tits to DSM in the morning. Stacie just knows it.

Plus, Stripper Drunk Chloe alway turns into Crying Drunk Chloe so the volume on that party goes from hero to zero pretty damn fast.

She shoots Green Bay Packers dude a wink because maybe she’ll be back, maybe she won’t, but it’s always best to leave them wondering, and heads to find her girls.

When she finds them, turns out Stacie had completely missed Stripper Drunk Chloe because Chloe’s looking around with wide eyes, her face red and blotchy, and it’s exactly the beginning of Crying Drunk Chloe coming out like clockwork.

Crying Drunk Chloe is a lot more prominent this year, and Stacie’s sure that means something, but she’s also sure it’s Chloe’s shit to sort out.

Ashley’s kind of giving her a panicked look because she’s not too great at Crying Drunk Chloe because Stripper Drunk Chloe is her territory. Stacie’s not that great at Stripper Drunk Chloe because she’s a bad influence, so this is their routine.

“Chloe, honey, your tits are falling out.”

Chloe looks down with watery eyes and pulls her shirt a little higher over her boobs.

“I can’t believe… we lost another riff-off. We never win the riff-offs.” Her voice is thick and Stacie frowns. “I can’t graduate until we win a riff-off.”

“Chloe…” Ashley murmurs. “We’re graduating this year, remember?”

“Not until we win a riff-off! I deserve this. Ask for a rematch? Where’s Beca? Tell her we can’t graduate until we win a riff-off.”

Stacie hums. “Beca’s a little busy, Chlo, but we’ll tell her tomorrow, okay?”

“Where is she? She’s always gone.” Chloe narrows her eyes up at them, a shine of blue barely visible under the teary red. “She has a secret, I know it.”

“Chloe -”

“Where’s Beca?”

Ashley huffs, impatient. “We don’t know, Chloe. But here, drink some water.”

Chloe shakes her head. “I need to talk to Beca.”

“Beca?” Suddenly Emily’s there, and Stacie scoots over in their little circle to make room. She thinks Emily’s pretty ballsy, showing her face in front of this over-emotional Chloe after Chloe just ripped her a new one for doing an original song in the riff-off.

Which Stacie thinks was a little overdramatic. The song was pretty good.

“I know where Beca is,” Emily says.

“You do?” Chloe’s gaze gloms onto Emily like a lifeline.

“Yeah,” Emily says, either ignoring the frantic headshake Ashley’s giving her or maybe she’s just completely oblivious. She crouches down in front of Chloe, her dress riding up, and her ass is like, almost visible to the world and she doesn’t care. She rests her hands on Chloe’s knees. “Want me to show you?”

Chloe nods, her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Is it okay if I’m still annoyed with you?”

“Chloe,” Ashley admonishes, but Emily just laughs.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” She smiles and helps Chloe up. She makes eye contact with Stacie for the briefest moment, and she seems so confident and beautiful. Her hair catches the ceiling lights and she crinkles her nose at Stacie’s look of concern, raising her eyebrows as if to say _I got this_.

There’s that swooping feeling under her ribcage again, like her insides are being shaken in a blender.

It’s then that Stacie realizes it.

_Oh. I think I like her_.

So that’s new.

//

Stacie has always kind of existed on three levels when it comes to relationships.

Physical is the most obvious. That’s kind of where she lives. It’s easy to her, like breathing, really, just listening to what her body wants when it’s with someone else.

The second is logical. Her body and her brain have an understanding you might say. Her brain lets her body do what it wants with whoever it wants without overcomplicating it, and her body knows when to pull back, when her brain is saying _stop_ this is a bad idea.

Because Stacie is a very logical person. And despite her body’s love of being physical with someone, she’s really good at reading how people will react. She can tell just by looking at someone if they’re the kind of person to get too attached, the kind of person to complicate things, the kind of person Stacie would crush if she isn’t careful. And she’s not a heartless monster who just uses everyone for sex. She knows where to draw a line.

Her brain and her body have an understanding.

It’s the third level that kind of throws it all off.

Emotional. Stacie isn’t as familiar with this level of relationships.

Sure, she’s not some walking cliché like Beca Mitchell, with her sarcastic demeanor and tattoos and piercings that put up some metaphorical wall that’s hard to break through.

Stacie just doesn’t… click with people like that. It’s the logical part in her brain and she knows it. She could be enjoying having sex with someone and think they’re cute and smart and funny and then this logical part in her brain starts speaking.

_He’ll take time away from your classes and the Bellas. You’re already really busy._

_Then you can’t have sex with that cute soccer player again and she was so fun._

_Relationships are so much effort and you don’t need some boy texting you constantly checking in on you._

This is how it always goes. And she’s been called a heartbreaker, a slut, a bitch, a tease. Because she never wants to commit. She’s not heartless, though. It’s exactly because she cares that she never gets into it with people. She knows she can’t give them what they’re looking for.

That’s just how she is.

She’s always been sure one day she’ll find someone who changes all that.

She just didn’t think it’d be so soon, and she didn’t think that person would be Emily Junk.

//

The problem is Emily likes that walking cliché, Beca Mitchell.

But Beca Mitchell still has her puppy dog Treble boyfriend. And is also probably into Chloe. Who is into Beca and also Aubrey, who is into work and also Stacie. Who is into sex, school, and _fine_ , Emily Junk.

What she’s _not_ into is pining after someone who isn’t into her.

Literally nothing has ever been less her style.

So why won’t her stupid brain stop obsessing?

Everything is complicated and Stacie isn’t about it.

So Stacie does what she does best:

Finds someone else to sleep with.

//

“You know, we said we wouldn’t do this again after last time.”

Chloe’s mouth is attached to Stacie’s neck and that’s one of the things Stacie loves most about Chloe… she’s such a good multitasker.

“We said that the last twenty times, Chlo.”

“I know,” Chloe laughs.

At least with Chloe it’s uncomplicated. They know where they stand. Friends. Sex. Bellas. Each identity strictly what it is, no overlap. Out there, they’re friends. On stage, they’re Bellas. In bed, they’re just two girls having a good time.

Like she said, uncomplicated.

//

Emily’s like, totally oblivious and adorable.

Stacie hates her.

By that, she means she’s obsessed with her.

With her stupid cute collared shirts and sweater vests, with her easy smile, with her crinkly eyes, the way her voice crawls under Stacie’s skin, deep and resonant until it drives her nuts.

“I love your jeans,” Emily smiles at her.

“You look so pretty today,” Emily tells her every morning.

“Oh my God, you’re a genius,” Emily will gasp when Stacie helps her with her homework.

And Stacie thinks, okay, maybe Emily’s just like, an over-complimentary golden retriever, but also maybe she thinks Stacie is worth something? Maybe she’s into Stacie but doesn’t know it. Maybe Stacie could kiss her and it’d be a total revelation and Emily’s eyes would do that light up Glo Bright thing they do, all shiny and perfect in Stacie’s direction? Maybe -

And then in walks Beca Fucking Mitchell, and Emily’s eyes _are_ doing that Glo Bright thing… just not at Stacie.

And okay, whatever. Stacie gets it. Beca’s gorgeous and mysterious and nerdy in a cool way. She’s talented and sexy and fucking great. She’s one of Stacie’s best friends.

But when Emily turns into a literal heart eyes emoji when Beca grins that half-smirk at her, Stacie kinda wants to rip Beca a new one for no reason.

She doesn’t of course. She loves Beca and she’s not a complete bitch.

But sometimes she dreams about it, if only because it’s something to think about other than how it would feel to hold Emily’s hand.

//

Fucking sap.

//

“So are you gonna tell her?”

Stacie is literally inside Chloe right now, but apparently Chloe’s multitasking talents aren’t confined to her mouth.

“Tell who what?”

“Tell - oh _god_ \- Emily. That you like her.”

Stacie’s fingers stop moving. She looks down at Chloe, feeling her lips pulling into her mouth tightly.

And she knows she shouldn’t, because she’s not a bitch. Except fuck it.

“Are you gonna tell Beca about your obvious toner?”

“No.”

Stacie sighs and starts her movements up again.

“She likes you back.”

“She has a _boyfriend_.” Chloe says the word like it’s poison in her mouth.

“Emily likes her, too.”

Chloe snorts. “Who wouldn’t.”

“Me.”

She curls her fingers inside Chloe and watches as Chloe gasps and trembles. She feels it all the way in her stomach, mixing with her bitterness and anger and a lot of longing for something she can’t have.

//

Stacie loathes this pining thing. She does _not_ pine.

Other people? _They_ pine. After _her_.

She feels all out of sorts.

Sure, things are normal. Ish.

Bellas rehearsals are the same, minus Beca being shady as hell. And her classes are fine, even if midterms are killing her.

But _she_ feels different. She hasn’t slept with anyone in like, three weeks. Not even consciously. She just, like, didn’t. And she must be some kind of masochist because she’s been spending almost all of her time with the world’s cutest freshman.

They do homework and get coffee and laugh together. And Stacie doesn’t fucking get it. Emily’s all over Stacie one minute, hugging and giggling and soft. And the next, she’s in a twist because Beca’s come home from class and rushed up to her room without more than a forced “‘sup” in their direction.

Emily pouts into her homework, shoulders slumping.

“Don’t worry about her,” Stacie says. “She’s like that with everyone. It’s her own shit, ya know?”

Emily nods, glancing in the direction of the stairs. “No, yeah, I know. I just wish…” She glances up at Stacie apprehensively. “You ever, like, just fixate on something you know you’re never gonna get?”

Stacie stares at Emily, thinking of all the things she could say. How much she fixates on what it might be like to kiss her and make her laugh and be the object of Emily’s attention and how much she _wants_ it. More than she’s wanted anyone.

“No,” she says instead, shrugging. “If you want something, go for it.”

Emily stares at her, tapping her pen against the table and her foot against the floor. Then she hums thoughtfully and crinkles her nose cutely.

It kills Stacie.

“I ever tell you that you’re like, the best friend ever and I love you so much?”

It’s all Stacie can do not to bitterly laugh like the asshole she is.

//

Beca breaks up with Jesse and she and Emily record a song at the studio Beca’s been interning at. Stacie sees them holding hands and loops her arm over Chloe’s shoulder when Chloe sighs.

Stacie wants to keep her anger in the pocket of her heart, but she’s actually kind of happy for them. Emily’s all bubbly and gushing and she gives Stacie the biggest hug.

“I did just what you said,” Emily whispers to her. “I went for what I wanted. I _so_ owe you.”

Jealousy and self-pity burst in Stacie’s chest and she barely stops herself from escaping to her room at anything other than a brisk walk.

She slumps on her bed, staring over at Chloe’s side of the room, the colorful tapestry on the wall, the mess of clothes on the floor.

Chloe comes in some time later and curls up next to Stacie in bed.

“It could be us, you know,” she whispers. “I mean, we’re hot. We get along. I love you and you love me and we have super awesome sex.”

Stacie runs her fingers through the pretty red waves of Chloe’s hair. “We’d honestly be the hottest.”

“Yeah. But I’m not Emily and you’re not Beca.”

“Yeah.”

They lie in silence for a minute, looking at each other. Then Chloe sighs and kisses her softly.

She’s not who Stacie wants, and Stacie’s not who Chloe wants, and they both know this.

But maybe they can forget, get lost in each other, if only for a little while, if only for today, if only for right now.


	3. friends with benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Emily hadn’t intended this… this whole friends with benefits thing. She’d really just thought Stacie could, like, verbally give her some pointers, walk her through some situations, let her in on some secrets. But it was like this lightning shock to her system, Stacie’s fingers on her skin, her tongue in her mouth. It didn’t even occur to her to set the record straight. She may as well have intended this the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh sorry im way past stemily week but better late than never right?

Emily really hadn’t intended for anything so… hands-on… when she’d thought of the idea. She’d just wanted some advice.

She guesses she maybe should’ve anticipated this, but nothing in her life could have ever prepared her for Stacie Conrad tying her hands to her headboard and grinning down at her.

“We still good?”

“Uh…” Emily squeaks, trying to calm her racing heart. “Yeah,” she manages. If by good Stacie means really turned on, then yeah, Emily’s good. Really good. Fan-freakin’-tastic.

“Great. So this lesson is called _Establish a Rhythm… Then Change It Up_.”

She’d originally come to Stacie because it seemed like the smart thing to do at the time. She’d been single for six months now and after a few Tinder dates, it was starting to occur to her that she’d only had sex with one person in her whole life, and when you’ve been with that one person for two years, being with someone new can feel like a lot.

Since she’d broken up with Benji, she’s been kind of freaking out, because she’s realizing she’s massively lacking in sexual experience. She and Benji had fallen into a sexual routine and Emily’s not really sure how to translate that to anyone else.

So she did what she thought was natural - gone to her very sexual best friend for advice.

“Oh, like tips?” Stacie had said.

“Um, yeah,” Emily had blushed. “I just… don’t know what to do, I guess.”

“Okay, well, I can show you, no prob.”

And before Emily had known what to make of it, they were kissing, Stacie’s hands crawling up her spine under her shirt.

And Emily hadn’t intended this… this whole friends with benefits thing. She’d really just thought Stacie could, like, verbally give her some pointers, walk her through some situations, let her in on some secrets.

But it was like this lightning shock to her system, Stacie’s fingers on her skin, her tongue in her mouth. It didn’t even occur to her to set the record straight. She may as well _have_ intended this the whole time.

Because there’s no way she wanted to stop. It felt so _good_ , so new, so _right_ , so fun.

Practice makes perfect, her mother always said.

Emily guesses that she was _so_ right.

//

“Next lesson: _Tell them what you want._ They’re not a mind reader, and knowing what you want is a huge turn on.”

Emily nods, her fingers ghosting over Stacie’s skin, trailing between her cleavage and over her stomach. Emily honestly could just admire her all day. Stacie is like a goddess trapped in the body of some perfect human. Emily thinks if she was going to tell Stacie what she wants, it’d be to never stop touching her.

“For example,” Stacie grins, her breath hitching when Emily’s fingers linger over her inner thighs. “I want you… inside me.”

Emily blushes, like, more than she’s ever blushed before, probably, but she complies. She’s here to learn and Stacie is a really good teacher.

And a few minutes later, when Stacie’s panting into Emily’s mouth, her legs trembling, clenching around Emily’s wrist, Emily thinks she deserves an A-freakin-plus.

//

They don’t just have sex, like all the time, of course. They still hang out and watch reality TV and eat dinner together like they usually do.

The only difference is now all that stuff feels like some kind of foreplay to their inevitable stripping down and it makes Stacie’s every glance and touch feel playful and suggestive.

Emily hasn’t felt so happy and free since Benji, and when she snuggles under Stacie’s arm while they watch TV, she doesn’t think twice about letting her fingers creep under Stacie’s shirt, about turning her nose into Stacie’s neck and breathing in her ear.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world to her, like some weird extension of a friendship they already had. And in the back of her mind, she knows that maybe these things don’t always end great, and eventually they’ll probably have to stop.

But some hopeful, probably naive part of her thinks that maybe they’ll be alright, because, well, it’s _Stacie_.

Emily doesn’t really know why that explanation reassures her, but she doesn’t think on it too much.

One of Stacie’s lessons was that overthinking is overrated.

//

It takes a long time for her to realize that all that practice? Yeah, she hasn’t really applied it to any situations outside of what she’s been doing with Stacie.

When she does, her cheeks flush and her stomach turns and she doesn’t know why. She’s just been having a good time with Stacie. They’re best friends. It’s easy, it’s fun, it’s become really comfortable.

But then she feels guilty. She asked Stacie for advice and Stacie’s been helping her right? That’s what this whole thing was about. And now Emily hasn’t even acted on it. Has she been taking advantage of Stacie’s offer to help?

She pulls up her Tinder app and starts scrolling, swiping yes and no and the whole time, her heart beats erratically, knowing that she could theoretically have sex with any one of these people.

It’s not long before she gets a match, and some guy named Pete is messaging her, and then she has a date.

//

“ _Hey, you’re coming over tonight right? The Bachelor is on.”_

And oh no. Emily completely forgot about their plans. It’s like, the one night they _for sure_ spend together every week. The two of them and some wine and shitty reality TV, and they usually end up making out after, in a wine-drunk sloppy haze until Stacie dims the lights and pushes Emily into her bedroom, the two of them laughing at something one of the contestants said.

“Crap, I _totally_ forgot to tell you. I… I have a date.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. _“A date? Like a date-date.”_

“Yeah…” Emily facepalms, her stomach twisting. “But I’m gonna cancel it, okay? Don’t start without me.”

_“What? Em, no, you don’t have to cancel. I’ll just record it and we can watch tomorrow.”_

“But - ”

“ _No, seriously, don’t. Have a good time. Tell me about it later_.”

There’s something weird in Stacie’s voice, and Emily feels so bad because she knows it’s because this is _their_ night.

They say their goodbyes and hang up, and a nervousness fills Emily’s stomach that she’s not sure has to do with her date.

//

So Pete is like, totally kind of cute. He’s an accountant, which is kind of nerdy, but Emily thinks he’s sweet. He has a nice smile and seems like the kind of guy who knows how to iron a shirt, which Emily is definitely into.

He pays for dinner, and when he accidentally trips over his chair getting up from the table, Emily thinks, _yeah, okay, I’d sleep with him_.

Except there’s a niggling in the back of her mind, one that she takes to mean, _but maybe not tonight_ , that maybe actually means something else.

When he drops her off at home, he tells her he had a really great time and would love to see her again. She kisses his cheek and agrees, but wonders why her _me too_ sounded a lot like a lie ringing in her ears.

//

“So how was it?” Stacie asks her the next night as they’re settling into her couch to finally watch their show.

“Good,” Emily shrugs.

Stacie stares at her. “Good? Just good? That’s it. No details? Did he like all the tricks I taught you? Did he want your smokin’ bod?”

Emily blushes, but tries to hide it behind a laugh. “No. I mean. We didn’t… He just dropped me off.”

“Oh.” Stacie frowns. “Well, okay then. Are you gonna see him again?”

“Maybe.”

Stacie nods and drops it, clicking the remote to turn up the volume. But five minutes into the show, Emily’s distracted. Her stomach is buzzing.

She can’t stop staring at Stacie, glancing over every few seconds out of the corner of her eye. Why _wouldn’t_ she see Pete again? He was nice and cute and respectful.

Stacie shifts on the couch, her toes absentmindedly wiggling their way between Emily’s calves for warmth. Emily’s heart flips in her chest and she frowns.

What is with her?

They’ve sat like this a hundred times, Emily leaning against the armrest, her knees pulled up under her, Stacie sprawled on her back, long legs pushing up against any part of Emily within reach.

Stacie looks like she always does when it’s just the two of them. Hair pulled up for function, not fashion, just anything to keep it out of her face. A Barden t-shirt, baggy, not even tight on her boobs. A short pair of Nike mesh shorts. Makeup free. Eyes on the screen.

So why is Emily’s body being so… flippy and weird.

It’s not long until Stacie notices her looking.

She raises an eyebrow in Emily’s direction. “What? Do you not want to watch?”

Emily opens her mouth. Closes it. Scrunches her nose. Her stomach twists again.

“I think…” She tries to calm her pounding heart. “I think I’d rather do something else.”

Stacie’s face opens in surprise, but then she’s grinning suggestively and leaning toward Emily on the couch.

When Emily cups her hands under Stacie’s chin and pulls her closer, she wonders why it’s then that her body finally stops twisting uncomfortably.

//

The show is still playing in the background, but Emily doesn’t notice it. Not when Stacie’s on top of her, grinding up and down on Emily’s fingers, her hair falling out of its ponytail and into her flushed face.

Emily’s struggling to breathe.

“You’re beautiful,” Emily murmurs, and then cringes, because it’s soft and not _sexy_ and… and…

But Stacie just closes her eyes, her teeth biting over her lower lip. “I know right.” Her mouth pulls up in the briefest smirk.

Then Stacie’s eyes flash open, locking on Emily’s with startling clarity. Her eyebrows scrunch inward and her pupils dilate and Emily’s entire body flushes with heat and wanting and… and…

Stacie gasps out a shaky breath, the rush of air fluttering the strands of hair in her face. She shudders and Emily’s own breathing stutter-steps, her heart tripping over itself in its hurry to beat fast enough to keep up with the moment before everything gets away from them.

“Em,” Stacie murmurs, her mouth moving like she’s trying to say more but nothing else comes out.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, her brain registers _so_ many things, like the TV in the background and the horribly starched out shade of light being thrown by the lamp. She registers the pink of Stacie’s cheeks and the simple fact that Stacie maybe hasn’t ever said her name like _that_ , has never been so centered on Emily when she reaches the point of no return.

But in the most visceral part of her conscious? Emily goes blank. Her brain empties, those thoughts being catalogued somewhere for her to think about later but not right now. All she does is feel.

She feels Stacie’s eyes fluttering shut as she comes, the tightening around Emily’s fingers as they slide between wetness. She feels Stacie’s hand in her hair, her fingers tugging the slightest amount.

And she feels something else, like a lead weight in her stomach, her heart a bouncing ping-pong ball in her chest.

_Want_ , her body urges.

_Lust_ , her desires suggest.

_Love_ , some unnamed voice inside her whispers.

“Oh,” she murmurs to herself, her entire body suddenly twisting in uncertainty, a fog of feelings swirling inside her.

Stacie slowly lifts herself off Emily’s fingers, but there’s not much room on the couch to move away, and anyway, Stacie maybe didn’t notice the cosmic shifting of the universe that Emily just did. She rests herself down on Emily, breathing heavy into Emily’s neck. .

They stay like that for a long while, vaguely listening to the TV in the background until the recording ends and clicks back to the menu screen. Emily’s feet have fallen asleep, but she doesn’t dare to move, can’t bear to break the silence that’s swept over them.

They’ve sat quietly together before, both of them doing their own thing, comfortable together. But this feels different. Emily’s afraid the silence might eat her alive, but she’s too scared to break it, so instead the sits on a tightrope somewhere between her feelings, unsure what side they’re going to topple over, but knowing, somehow, in the depth of her heart, that they will fall, one way or another.

//

Now, Emily’s read enough Hermione/Ginny fanfiction to know how this goes.

They start off as friends, get to having fun, someone develops feelings, and then, of course, the tropes demand _angst_. This is the part where one of them gets cold feet and freaks out, or there’s a bunch of quiet pining, or _god forbid_ , she starts dating that Pete dude because she’s confused about her feelings.

But Emily’s life isn’t fanfiction (at least… she hopes not), so she thinks those tropes can suck a bag of dicks.

//

(Of course, in Emily’s favorite fics, Ginny and Hermione _always_ end up together at the end. So if her life isn’t fanfiction, does that mean she might not get a happy ending?

She decides not to think about that.)

//

If her life _were_ a fanfiction, Emily would probably take some time to sort her feelings. She’d probably feel pretty confused for awhile, unsure if she’d want to ruin the good thing she and Stacie have going, hesitant to do something that might ruin their friendship.

She might keep it to herself, let her feelings eat her from the inside out until she just can’t take it anymore and she breaks down in some tearful confession.

As it is, she decides not to do that because that sounds like some kind of evil torture.

“Hey,” she says after they’ve been soaking in the silence for a bit too long. “Do you relate more to Hermione of Ginny?”

“Hermione,” Stacie says without hesitation. That’s why Emily loves her a lot. That’s also good news, though, because Emily has always kind of felt more kinship with Ginny, and not just because she has four older brothers.

“So.” Emily clears her throat. “I think we should stop like, this friends with benefits thing.”

Stacie’s body tenses on top of hers, then she lifts her head to look at Emily questioningly. “Umm, okay. Is it because of my answer?” She’s joking, but there’s an undercurrent of uncertainty in Stacie’s tone that has Emily tingling.

“Partially,” Emily says. “It was a really good answer.”

Stacie’s lips tick up in a smile. “You’re kind of cute when you make absolutely _zero_ sense.”

“Thanks.” She wiggles her hand out from in between her hip and the couch cushions so she can touch Stacie’s cheek.

Stacie leans into it, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Did I do something you’re uncomfortable with?”

“No.”

“Is it that guy?”

“Nuh uh.”

Stacie gives her an exasperated look. “Is there a bad vibe then? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, Stace.”

“I don’t get it.”

Emily taps her thumb against Stacie’s chin. “Lesson one: Establish a rhythm and then change it up. We’re in a rhythm. We’re comfortable doing this. I think it’s great. But I’m ready to change it up.”

“Okay…”

“Lesson two: overthinking is overrated. So I decided not to think about it, but to do something instead.

“I’m so lost, Em.”

“I’m getting there!” Emily takes a huge breath, steeling herself. “Lesson three: Tell them what you want. They’re not a mind reader and knowing what you want is a huge turn on. So, umm. I, Emily Junk, want to date you, Stacie Conrad. Like officially.”

Stacie just stares at her. Emily thinks, not for the first time and certainly not the last, that Stacie has magically pretty eyes.

“I know that you don’t usually date people,” Emily says. “I know that we just started this because I asked you for help. And I know we’re not supposed to catch feelings and things in these situations, or at least that’s what they always say in the Herminny fanfics.”

“Oh my God.” Stacie closes her eyes, and the strangest thing happens. Her cheeks heat up under Emily’s fingers.

Emily blinks, her lips pulling upward the slightest amount. “Are you blushing?”

“You’re just really cute. Shut up.”

“Okay.”

“Not actually shut up.”

Emily’s smile widens. “I know.” She moves her thumb across Stacie’s cheek. “So, uh. Anyway. You want to, like, be my girlfriend? We can do all the things we do now, but I get to call you _baby_ and buy you presents and we can be super hot together in public and make everyone jealous. But uh, only if you want to?”

Stacie’s cheeks get impossibly redder. Emily has never seen this happen and it makes her stomach flip. Stacie exhales and rests her head back down in Emily’s neck. She says something, but it just sounds like muffled grumbling against Emily’s skin.

“Uh. What?”

“Yeah! Yes. Okay.”

“Oh.” Giddiness swirls inside her chest and she laughs happily. “Wow.”

Stacie murmurs something into Emily’s neck again.

“What?”

“I don’t really know how to date someone.”

“Oh,” Emily says again. Then she grins. “Don’t worry. I can show you. No prob.”

When she kisses Stacie, it’s like a lightning shock to her system, electric and perfect.

“First rule of dating someone,” she murmurs against Stacie’s lips. “Tell them what you want. They’re not a mind reader. Communication is key. For example, I…” she pauses for dramatic effect. “Want you inside me, like, right now.”

And a few minutes later, when Emily’s panting into Stacie’s mouth, her legs trembling, clenching around Stacie’s wrist, Emily is glad her life isn’t a fanfiction.

Her reality is _so_ much better.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you know the drill @ emilyjunk.tumblr.com


End file.
